SINS OF THE FATHER

by Nina Bruhns

  "I still don't get it," RaeAnne said. "Why did they do it?"

  Philip's mouth turned down. "The poaching or the beating?"

  "Both."

  His eyes went cold. "The lucrative poaching profits were one way Tecopa paid off the sheriff's office for turning a blind eye to the marijuana operation—that and a yearly sizable cash donation to the sheriff's reelection fund, which seems to have mysteriously disappeared from all the annual accounts."

  "And the beating?" Roman asked, unconsciously reaching up to touch his ribs.

  Philip shifted on his feet. "The sheriff's files on them described men who'd stop at nothing to protect their buddies and their turf. The deputies must have seen RaeAnne as a threat, knowing there was a very real chance she'd discover the body of the man they'd murdered. When you showed up at the site they probably got even more spooked, and used my relationship with RaeAnne as an excuse to get rid of you."

  "Probably shocked the hell out of them when they found out I was FBI."

  "You could say that."

  "So when beating me up didn't work, they tried more direct methods—like shooting us."

  RaeAnne frowned, trying to make sense of it all. "So your deputies were the ones who hired Toby to scare me off?"

  "Not the Chairman?" Roman interjected with an oddly fierce look on his face. She glanced up, surprised.

  "I don't see any motive for the Chairman," Philip answered. "But I'll be sure the question is asked during the deputies' interrogation."

  "I think I'll ask the Chairman myself."

  "Whatever you say."

  Roman looked from Philip to Bugs and back. "Thanks for the rescue operation. Really. There's no telling what might have happened to us if you guys hadn't been so on the ball."

  And then to RaeAnne's amazement, he stuck out his hand to Philip and gave him a firm handshake. He even gritted his teeth and tolerated it when she joined in and gave both of the men grateful thank-you hugs.

  She beamed at Roman. He could afford to be generous. She knew who was going to be lounging in the hot springs with him later on tonight. And so did he.

  At least that's what she thought. Right up until the helicopter came back and they loaded up the remaining prisoners.

  That's when Roman turned to her and said, "Can you and Toby make it down to Medicine Wind on your own? There's something I have to go and do."

  Her heart clutched painfully.

  So this was it.

  She almost cried out in protest. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It was too soon! It was unfair. She deserved a whole night with him before he left her! In her bed, in the hot springs, joined with him in his arms.

  She didn't know what to do, what to say. It was a bittersweet irony—the knowledge that he was leaving her again, but that this time a single reminder from her about possibly being pregnant could make him stay.

  Because he was all about honor.

  But she didn't want him sticking around out of honor or duty because there may be a baby in their future. Or worse, because of his sense of guilt over their past.

  She wanted him to stay because he loved her, and there was no place else on earth he'd rather be than by her side.

  If she asked him to stay, he'd stay. But he'd resent her for it till his dying breath. Baby or no, he wasn't ready to love her. He had his rootless job. And his quest for his own father. To make him give up those things would be selfish.

  She had her honor, too. She had to let him go.

  She had to let him go.

  She swallowed heavily and for both their sakes pasted a nonchalant smile onto her quavering lips.

  "Of course," she managed to say without her voice cracking too badly. "No problem. Toby knows the way. Don't you, Tobe?"

  "Sure thing, Miz Martin," Toby hurriedly assured. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her for you, Mr. Santangelo."

  She gave a wobbly smile at the kid's obvious worship of Roman. She didn't blame him. She worshiped the man, too. But she was afraid nobody would be able to take care of her in the coming days and weeks well enough to avert the heartache that was slowly numbing her mind and body.

  Oh, why did he have to find her again? Hating the boy he used to be had been so much easier than this powerful, overwhelming love for the man he'd become.

  "Wait for me," Roman whispered as he took her in his arms one last time.

  What choice did she have? She'd never love another man as long as she lived.

  "I'll wait for you," she whispered back, and her heart broke even more. Knowing she could well spend the rest of her life waiting for this man to settle down and change his ways.

  * * *

  RaeAnne watched the helicopter take off with Roman on board and felt her legs threaten to buckle.

  "Come on," she said to Toby before she could give in to the impulse to lie down on the ground and never get up. "Let's find the horses."

  Thank goodness for the kid, who kept up a running chatter about the day's excitement. Even when the sky fogged up and it started sprinkling, his thrill over their experience went undiminished. If it weren't for having to keep up a cheerful face for Toby, she'd probably go crazy with sorrow.

  When the corrals of Medicine Wind finally came into view, her stomach clenched, and it wasn't because a sudden flash of lightening split the clouds with an ominous roll of thunder.

  Tonight would be the real test. Could she face the long night alone, without Roman by her side?

  Would she survive?

  * * *

  Roman had the helo drop him in the meadow at Cleary so he could pick up his stuff and the Harley. After today's events, the idea of letting RaeAnne out of his sight held even less appeal than usual.

  Unfortunately he had no choice. The helicopter had been ready to fly off and he'd had to be on it to catch up with the Chairman before O'Donnaugh started asking Pritchett questions. What the foreman of Tecopa Lumber had told him before being carted off to jail still burned like acid in his gut.

  Knowing who held the secret to Hector Santangelo's whereabouts, the end of his quest was too close to turn back now. Roman had to put this thing with his own father to rest before he could even think about settling down and becoming a father himself.

  But he was glad he'd given in to instinct and asked O'Donnaugh to check in on RaeAnne tonight. There was something at the back of his mind that wouldn't stop needling at him, though damned if he could put his finger on what it was.

  Better to be safe than sorry when it came to his woman. And since O'Donnaugh had turned out to be one of the good guys after all, he figured there was no reason not to trust the sheriff to make sure everything was secure at the cabin tonight.

  No doubt Roman was just being paranoid. She certainly hadn't needed his help staying safe for the past eighteen years. She'd do fine without him for one more night—or however long it took to find his father and throw him in jail. After all, the murderers had confessed, the ding dealers had been arrested. The bad guys were all caught. There was no one left to harm her.

  Still, the thought of RaeAnne out at the site all alone with no phone really ate at him.

  And not just because of the uneasy feeling he had. He also knew damned well what she was thinking. However wrong she was. That phony smile hadn't fooled him for a single second. She'd acted brave and unconcerned so he wouldn't feel guilty about leaving her, but he knew, deep inside he'd as good as cut her heart out.

  Again.

  As he strapped his pack to the back of the Harley and pointed the bike toward Bishop, this morning's insight about how badly he'd hurt her in the past returned with dismal vengeance. And now he'd done an encore.

  Would she understand? Or would this only cement her determination never to trust him? Should he even try to fight against the tide and continue to woo her trust?

  Did he stand even a small chance of succeeding? Or should he back out gracefully now, before he could hurt her even more?

  A sudden chill wind made him zip his jacket to his t
hroat and look up. A storm was brewing.

  Not once had she told him she still loved him. What she had said was that she didn't want to marry him, even if she was pregnant. True, she'd wondered if he would consider moving to her town to be with her and their baby, but she'd never really asked him to do it.

  Indications of success were depressingly absent.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Giant black thunderheads had appeared out of nowhere to obscure both the sun and the top half of the Sierras. Still he kept the bike at a steady clip down the mountain.

  The last thing he should do was push RaeAnne into something she didn't want. Marriage and family took a one-hundred-percent commitment. If she didn't have it in her, better to find out now. A baby would complicate things, but it could be handled. He knew she wouldn't exclude him from his child's life, she wasn't that kind of person.

  From high above him, long tentacles of swirling mist crept down the sides of the mountain, as though reaching out to snatch him from the saddle of the Harley and toss him aside. To where he couldn't hurt her anymore. A shiver worked its way along his spine.

  Strange how just a few days with RaeAnne had shown him exactly how empty his life had been for nearly two decades. How incredibly he'd missed her. How enormously he'd loved her through all those solitary years of searching. And how far he'd strayed from fulfilling the hopes and dreams of his youth—dreams in which she'd always played an integral part.

  A peal of thunder cracked through the air like a parting shot. Roman frowned angrily, glaring back toward the veiled mountain peaks. He wanted to shout at them to mind their own damn business. He wasn't leaving her. Not for good, anyway. They didn't have to act so condemning. But they just hid their barren faces from him, secreting themselves behind a curtain of roiling black clouds as streaks of lightning lit up the sky.

  "Cowards!" he yelled into the cold mist, unable to keep quiet. But it only echoed through his helmet right back at him.

  He thought about RaeAnne and Toby, by themselves on the trail to Medicine Wind in this weather. He hoped to God they were all right.

  "Leave them alone!" he shouted at the spineless peaks.

  Damn. He was really losing it. He raised a hand to rake it through his hair but hit solid plastic with his fingers. The day's experiences must have unhinged him more than he wanted to admit. His whole future was hanging in the balance, and here he was talking to the goddamn mountains.

  He needed to get a grip, and fast.

  He ground his jaw and spun the bike through the turn onto the highway, and threw it into high gear. The sooner he got to the Chairman, the sooner he'd be back with RaeAnne.

  * * *

  "What do you mean he's gone for a few days?"

  Roman stared incredulously at the woman behind the desk at the Tribal Council. This couldn't be happening.

  "It was fairly sudden," she said apologetically. "The Chairman got a phone call this morning. Apparently there was some urgent tribal business down at Pachenga Rez near San Dieg—"

  "I know where the Pachenga Reservation is," he snapped. It was part of his old stomping grounds growing up on Rincon Rez, not ten miles away from his mother's home. Another coincidence? God, he was getting tired of this.

  "Did he fly or drive?"

  The woman balked at his question, so he slapped his FBI credentials on the counter in front of her. Then he moved the edge of his jacket to one side so she could see the Colt Python tucked in his waistband. Her eyes widened.

  "T-two-thirty flight into O-Ontario Airport," she stammered.

  "Thank you," he replied and checked his watch: 4:17. Surely there had to be another flight out of the small airport at Bishop tonight.

  He didn't know why he felt this urgency to catch up to the Chairman as soon as possible. He'd waited all this time to find his father. A day or two more wouldn't hurt—especially since O'Donnaugh couldn't get to him, either, to question. And it would give Roman an opportunity to explain things better to RaeAnne.

  But he had to obey his gut instincts. And right now they were telling him to get on a plane south. Immediately.

  On his way out, an impulse made him stop and do an about-face. Quickly he strode to the Chairman's office, flung open the door and swept the room with a searching gaze.

  "Hey! You can't—" The receptionist blanched at the look he drilled her with. "I mean, go right ahead. I'm sure the Chairman has nothing to hide from the FBI."

  He stepped into the room and went straight to the desk. There was a modest scatter of papers on it, but he found nothing that might be a clue to his father's whereabouts. He opened the drawers, and again didn't spot anything of interest. Nothing left in the printer. Nothing written on the memo pad by the phone. The last thing he checked was the trash.

  And that's where he hit paydirt.

  * * *

  RaeAnne took a deep breath and jumped over a rivulet of rain runoff, landing in the mud of the meadow on the other side. She had her yellow slicker pulled up over her head, but fat drops of water still ran down her face and throat, soaking the sweater beneath the thin plastic.

  She didn't mind. She liked the rain. And it was good camouflage in case she started crying again.

  Not that she would. She was doing okay.

  Really.

  Roman had asked her to wait for him, but had failed to mention whether he meant wait at the cabin, as in for a few hours or days, or that more general, royal-command wait for him that entailed another eighteen years.

  She hadn't quite made up her mind which she opted to believe. She figured she'd give it tonight and if he didn't show up or get a message to her, she'd probably go for the latter. It was safest that way. For her heart, that is.

  She slogged through the meadow and slip-slided up the muddy hillside to where she and Roman had left Great-great-granduncle Crawford Edisto under a tarp when the shooting had started.

  It seemed like a lifetime ago since that had happened. She hoped ol' Crawford was all right. The wind might have lifted the protective covering to expose the skeleton and other evidence to the elements. Or who knew what the shooter might have done with the remains if he didn't realize it was an historical burial, and thought it might be more recent.

  She swiped the rain from her eyes, staunchly ignoring the slightly salty taste of it on her lips, and took stock. The plastic tarp was still in place, if covered by a veritable lake of water that had been trapped in the three-foot-deep unit. She decided not to try to bail out the water. Its presence would keep the plastic from whipping about in the wind, thereby actually protecting the unit from worse damage.

  She just wanted a peek. To make sure the skeleton wasn't in imminent danger from something she hadn't thought of.

  Kneeling down, she lifted a corner of the tarp and carefully pulled it up, displacing the pool of water to the other corners. She peered in, shining her flashlight into the dark, shallow gap.

  The dirt wall of the unit had been eroded by the rain, and instead of being perfectly straight, it now resembled a rough hillside. No big deal. With some careful measuring, she could reconstruct what dirt had been re-deposited where, and what artifacts belonged to the unit and what had just been washed in.

  She moved her hands on the tarp, easing the gap farther down the wall so she could see how far the damage went.

  Suddenly her attention was caught by a shiny round object. In the light of the flashlight it looked gold. What the—?

  She leaned down closer, and realized it was a ring, lying among the finger bones of the skeleton. A ring! Outstanding. Rings were often engraved. Or at least traceable. That should make identification a snap. Hopefully.

  If this was Great-great-granduncle Edisto, she might be able to prove it. Yes!

  Excited, she swept the flashlight beam around the small area, oblivious to the rain and the mud that soaked her knees and elbows. And all at once it hit her. There were too many finger bones. She reached down to delicately scoop away a shallow layer of mud. Revealing another wris
t bone.

  There were two skeletons, buried together, holding hands.

  She sat back on her heels and slowly a smile played over her mouth. They were holding hands, their fingers knit like lovers, the shiny gold band declaring their devotion for all eternity.

  Liquid filled her eyes, though she couldn't tell if it was tears or rain as drops spilled down her cheeks.

  "Well, I'll be damned," she whispered. "I guess that explains what happened to Great-great-granduncle Edisto."

  With great care she replaced the tarp, and in a happy daze strolled back to the cabin.

  It wasn't until she'd reached the cabin door that she noticed the silhouette of a sedan parked out front, barely visible in the darkness.

  Her heart leaped. Then slowed again. Not a Harley. A car. She couldn't make out what type of car it was, so she had no idea who had come to visit. But whoever it was, she was glad for the company. She needed to share her discovery with someone, and frankly, any distraction from thinking about Roman was more than welcome.

  She opened the door, and when she saw who was standing by the woodstove she gave a big smile and rushed into the room.

  "Hi!" she said. "You won't believe what I just found!"

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  «^»

  Tucked into the farmlands halfway between L.A. and San Diego, Pachenga Rez was a haven from traffic, urban sprawl and cookie-cutter houses. Roman glanced one last time at the wrinkled, coffee-stained computer printout he'd fished from the Chairman's trash can just two hectic hours ago. San Joaquin Street

  . This was it.

  At the end of the unpaved road in the middle of fragrant, moonlit alfalfa fields, he found a neat clapboard house surrounded by a narrow band of green lawn and brambly yellow climbing roses.

  Thank goodness for caffeine addiction. If it hadn't been for the large brown spot nearly obscuring the address, the Chairman would probably not have tossed the paper out and Roman would never have found this place.

  Stepping from his rental car, the sweet spice of old rose blindsided him, and for a brief, intense moment Roman was four years old again, back in his garden at Big Pine, helping his father cut a bouquet of Sutter's Gold for his mom.